By Anonymous
by Golden Lunar Eclipse
Summary: Helga performs a monologue at an Arts Assembly. It was written by anonymous, but Arnold thinks he knows who 'anonymous' is. One shot. The poem on its own in the second chapter.
1. By Anonymous

By Anonymous

A/N1 – (this is something I'm putting in all the stories I post today); Hi! And welcome to my imagination. I have been a member here since September 4th, 2002. This is one of the first stories that I am posting and being that it is a very unusual and special event, I am posting it on a day that does not exist 3 out of 4 years! What took me so long? Well, two things: I'm a procrastinator and a perfectionist, but in general, I get many ideas that just don't seem to come out into words. However, I promised myself, that today, I would share some of my ideas with the world (and it's about time, too!). I hope you enjoy your reading and Happy Leap Year!

A/N2 – (this author's note is for the story) nothing much to say… enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold! But I wish good luck to any fan out there who is trying to buy the rights (without much money).

-(*)-

"This is it. This is the moment you've been waiting for; the moment when you'll show the world who you are," thought Helga. "You have everything planned out. You have to get up and go out there. Everyone will like it. Or will they? Mr. Simmons sure seems confident, why can't you be? Oh well, it's time. There is no backup plan."

Helga stood up nervously. She nodded to Nadine who was on tech crew and walked out on stage. She was wearing a sparkling white dress with her hair down, but her pink bow was still on her head. From the other side of backstage, Helga noticed Arnold mouth the words 'good luck' and he winked at her.

"Oh no! I can't do this," she thought as her stomach did a back flip. "Arnold is watching me!"

"This next act is the last one for tonight, folks," said Mr. Simmons from in front of the curtain. "We are very lucky to have such a talented student among us. She is creative and smart. Tonight she will be presenting an anonymously written poem entitled 'Me'. She will perform it like a monologue. So here it is, 'Me' by Anonymous. Take it away, Helga."

Mr. Simmons left the stage as the curtain began to rise. A spotlight focused on Helga who stood in the center of the stage.

Helga scanned the audience quickly before starting. She spotted her parents and sister sitting in the 5th row. It looked like it would take a lot more than Mr. Simmons' complimenting words to impress her father.

"Can't anyone see my troubled soul," Helga began. "Lost beneath layers of anger? I turn to tell you who I am," she turned and faced Arnold. "My voice gets stuck in my throat like I'm ringing my neck with a rope," she ripped her ribbon out of her hair without thinking about what she was doing. She had meant to just grab her neck with her hands, but instead she made it more dramatic on the spot. She used her ribbon as a prop and held it across her neck. "I turn away," she let the ribbon fall and turned sharply back to face the audience. "And keep a hurting burden of the secrets locked up inside me.

"Can't anyone hear my tormented thoughts," Helga held her hands out. "Buried in the depths of my mind? I'm searching for love, wanting attention," she got down on her knees, dirtying her dress that sparkled under the lights. She bowed her head and looked at the floor. Then, she snapped it up quickly. "Desperate for recognition, I try to get respect." Her voice is rising. "I tell you to listen to me, but what I say, I did not expect." She was standing again. She lashed out in front of her with her hands like claws. "I yell at you and throw out all of my troubles in one anguished blow after another." She was in the height of her emotions. So involved in the poem, she hardly noticed anymore that anyone was watching. She ripped the side of her dress, creating a slit. She pulled off one of her straps. Then, she completely tore off the bottom.

"Can't anyone feel my insecure self," she said, her voice now shaking with repressed feelings. She was trying hard not to let herself breakdown. "Scared of revealing itself to the world? I try to be nice, I want to be myself, but," she suddenly became aware of the quiet audience observing her. She had to continue, though. She had to just say it. "I don't even know who I am." Her pace quickened. "Am I the demon," she looked to the left. "Or the angel?" She looked to the right. "My thoughts are at war when I need to be at peace." She slowed down again and took a deep, steadying breath. "Please, someone, guide me. I don't want to be lonely anymore.

"Can't anyone see my troubled soul?" She extended her arms towards the audience. "Hear my tormented thoughts?" She lifted her hands to her face. "Feel my insecure self?" She hugged her body. "I want you to know who I am," she let her arms drop. "But I cannot share myself with you, yet." She was speaking barely above a stage whisper. But her tone and volume changed fast to her normal 'bully' self as she finished, "And don't you ever repeat a word of this. Or else!"

The room was silent. Every eye, every ear, was focused on Helga. Her dress was ripped and dirty, her hair was a mess, her ribbon lay somewhere behind her. Her throat was soar from keeping from bursting out in tears, but she was starting to feel comfortable again.

"Thanks," she said.

A roar of clapping followed. Helga took a bow. But the clapping persisted. Soon there was a standing ovation. There were even a couple of whistles and shouts of 'Bravo!' and the like. Helga stood there in amazement. She took another bow. The curtains came down and everyone else who had performed in the arts festival joined her on stage. The curtain rose again and everyone bowed. The audience was still standing and clapping loudly.

Finally, the curtains closed and the performers left the stage.

"That was amazing, Helga," Arnold said from behind her. Arnold had presented a visual arts sculpture similar to the float he designed for the parade. "That was the first time I've ever seen you perform like that."

"Yah, well, it's probably 'cause no one stays for the end of the rehearsals," snapped Helga.

"No, I didn't mean that! I meant you really put yourself into it. Whoever 'anonymous' is who wrote the poem, it seems they wrote it for you."

Arnold smiled when he said this, in a way that suggested he suspected Helga wrote the poem. Helga was surprised.

"Thanks, I guess," she said, remembering Arnold had complimented her on her acting.

"Are you going to fix your dress? I think it's really pretty. It's too bad you had to rip it," commented Arnold.

"Actually, I hadn't planned to do that. It just sort of came out," Helga admitted and she laughed.

"Arnold-" she started as they walked to the dressing rooms.

"Yes? I'm listening," he said.

"Um, thanks I guess," completed Helga.

"For what?" asked Arnold.

"For noticing I exist," she answered.

"Oh," Arnold said. "But you know, it's not hard," he added.

Helga shot him an angry, you-stupid-football-head look that slowly changed into a grateful smile.

Her parents greeted her and Arnold walked away. Helga became the center of attention in her family. This rare event would make tonight a most memorable one.

"Thank you for sharing a part of yourself with me," stated Arnold under his breath as he watched the Patakis leave. "I can imagine your kind heart finding its way to happiness. I know our dreams will come true."

The End

-(*)-

A/N – that last thing Arnold said is supposed to be like it's part of Helga's poem. "Can't you see… hear… feel… and (Arnold's addition)… imagine."

Next chapter is the poem on its own without the actions, so you can read it for what it is. Please review this story. I love to hear what you think.

Signing out,

* Golden Lunar Eclipse *


	2. Me

Me

Can't anyone see my troubled soul

Lost beneath layers of anger?

I turn to tell you who I am

My voice gets stuck in my throat

Like I'm ringing my neck with a rope,

I turn away and keep a hurting burden

Of the secrets locked up inside me.

Can't anyone hear my tormented thoughts

Buried in the depths of my mind?

I'm searching for love, wanting attention

Desperate for recognition, I try to get respect.

I tell you to listen to me, but what I say, I did not expect.

I yell at you and throw out all of my troubles

In one anguished blow after another.

Can't anyone feel my insecure self

Scared of revealing itself to the world?

I try to be nice, I want to be myself

But I don't even know who I am.

Am I the demon or the angel?

My thoughts are at war when I need to be at peace.

Please, someone, guide me. I don't want to be lonely anymore.

Can't anyone see my troubled soul?

Hear my tormented thoughts?

Feel my insecure self?

I want you to know who I am

But I cannot share myself with you, yet.

And don't you ever repeat a word of this.

Or else!


End file.
